Skipping Christmas
by teh-Sara
Summary: Secret Santa Story for kab16! Sawyer/Juliet off-island Christmas. // “Skipping Christmas?” His eyes twinkle. “Wasn’t that a book or somethin’?” / She smiles. “Not yet.”


**Skipping Christmas**

**Author's Note:** Secret Santa gift for kab16, who requested a Sawyer/Juliet off-island Christmas. I hope you enjoy!

**WARNING: This gets pretty fluffy/sappy. **

*

They wake up at nearly the same time. Juliet feels James stir beside her and throw his arm over his face as he does every morning to block the sun pouring through the shades. He doesn't take into account that there _is_ no sun anymore; well, there's sun, but it's nothing like the island.

"Time is't?" he murmurs. He always had the uncanny ability to tell when she was awake, even if she hasn't moved an inch.

"Nine," she replies.

"Mmm," he says in way of a response.

She smiles and turns toward him, burying her head into his shoulder. "Wanna skip it?"

"Skip what?" He removes his arm from his eyes and turns his head toward her.

"Christmas."

He makes a sound like the air has been forced out of him. "It today?"

"Yes, it's _today_," she replies. It'd been hard to keep up with the days they'd been back, and time travel had given them terrible jet-lag for weeks after. Still, he had to know that today was Christmas.

It had been about a month, give or take, since they'd hopped the sub from the island, left everything they'd made there, all their friends…and they hadn't looked back, they couldn't. It left a hole in her heart, a hole even he couldn't fill. But it had been their only chance.

_That okay with you, sweetheart?_

_Absolutely._

They didn't know what had happened to the others; they didn't talk about it.

"I've been thinking we could skip it," she says.

"Skipping Christmas?" His eyes twinkle. "Wasn't that a book or somethin'?"

She smiles. "Not yet."

"We could write it," he says, "It'd be years before it's time." He tugs the comforter up to his neck and glares are her, "Always stealin' the covers."

"We could stay in bed all day," she suggests.

He grins at this idea. "Y'know, it wouldn't be hard for us to skip Christmas," he says. He scoots closer to her and presses his lips against hers. "Don't have any neighbors to impress, no lights to put up. Hell, we don't even have a tree. We've practically _already _skipped Christmas."

"I know. I've never gone this long without decorating…I mean, other than on the island. When I was a kid, my mother was obsessed with decorating. We had those little Christmas villages, with the sparkly snow that got _everywhere_." She smiles at the memory. "Rachel used to put it in her hair and say she was a fairy."

"And you?" he asks, obviously amused by her story. He doesn't share his own; she knows not to pry.

"I wasn't into the fake snow, I was into the _real_ stuff. I loved watching the weather around Christmas, to see all the places that had snow. I was so happy to see some last week."

He chuckles. "You ain't kidding."

_They'd seen their first snow in Portland exactly a week ago. She'd been driving back from work when the flakes descended, and she could hardly contain her excitement. It wouldn't amount to much, said the weatherman, but she didn't care._

_When James pulled into the driveway, Juliet was in the front yard, arms outstretched and face tilted toward the sky, as if she were worshipping some kind of god. _

"_What are you doin'?" he asked, clapping his hands together to keep off the cold, and then shoving them deep into his pockets._

"_It's snowing," she announced, throwing him a grin._

_He immediately broke into laughter, pulled his hands from his pockets and gathered her into his arms. She began laughing as well and looked into his eyes. "This is the first time I've seen real snow," she said._

"_That explains it then," he replied. "C'mon, Snow Angel, if you come inside we'll make hot chocolate." He laughed as her eyes lit up; he'd never seen her like this._

"You were so happy to see snow," he says, "But you want to skip Christmas?"

"I just said we could."

"So you don't want to?"

She presses her lips together. "It won't really be Christmas, though," she says softly.

He brushes his hand through her hair. "Without your family?"

She nods. "We never really _had _Christmas on the island. With Dharma, it didn't feel like Christmas, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

_Dharma Christmas had arrived, and the residents were always in a rush, ordering things from the sub and being devastated when they didn't arrive. The children were told of Santa and his reindeer, just like anyone else. Horace had gone from house to house until he'd finally found some poor soul to portray Santa Clause. He'd asked James and Juliet to play Mr. and Mrs. Clause, to which they both had to bite their tongues in order to remain polite._

"_You should've never told them we were married," she hissed as Horace crossed to their neighbor's home._

"_You know it ain't that bad, Sweet Cheeks," he said, brushing past her at the door._

_She grabbed him by the arm as he passed, and he turned back to look at her. "What?" he asked._

"_Don't call me Sweet Cheeks," she said._

"_You better cool your jets, Rocket Girl, or you're not gonna get anything from Santa Clause."_

_She scoffed, growing tired of the endless barrage of nicknames._

"_Can't believe you wouldn't let me get one of them fine trees that Horace brought in," James said, gesturing to a bare corner in their living room, "Woulda looked real good right there."_

_Juliet rolled her eyes. "This isn't really Christmas. I can't have a tree."_

"_Of course it's really Christmas," he replied, "You've been marking the days away on that calendar for as long as I can remember. You know exactly when it is."_

"_It doesn't feel like it," she clarified._

"_Well, then I guess you won't be needin' this gift I got ya."He pulled a small, flat parcel from under the couch, where he'd hidden it. He didn't miss the sparkle in her eyes._

"_What is it?"_

"_It ain't Christmas," he said, "And I don't buy gifts for nothin'."_

_Juliet regarded him coolly and then in one swift motion, she grabbed the package out of his hands and dashed back toward the bedroom. He heard the door slam, the paper being ripped off, and a soft gasp as she regarded the gift._

"_You'll have to wait a couple more years for the feature film, sweetheart."_

"But I loved my gift that first Christmas…the Christmases after that as well."

"And I loved mine," he says.

"Ha, you loved your shaving kit, your box of candy canes, your—"

He kisses her again. "Yes, all of it."

She still has the first edition of _Carrie_ sitting on her nightstand. She keeps it around all the time, always where people can see it, even though it isn't so strange to have a first edition now. Still, she's proud of it.

"Would ya like to open your gift now?" he asks.

"I thought we were skipping Christmas."

He laughs. "I feel like we've been through this before, but someone still wanted their gift. You want it or not?"

"You sleep with it?"

"Nah, but it's close. D'ya want it or not? 'Cause I can take it back."

She smiles, watches the dimples deepen on his face. "You may be more excited than me."

For a moment, his face falls, but he covers it up. "Ya want it or not?" he repeats.

She decides to play it cool, but she can feel the excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't given a thought to Christmas, except for his gift, which didn't really require any thought. She had to do it some time or another, and she assumed that Christmas was the best time…perhaps he'd be less likely to – what? Pass out? Leave her?

"Jules, where'd ya go?"

"Huh?"

"You left this planet for a while there."

She laughs, trying to quell the anticipation. "Yes, I want my gift," she says softly.

"You sure now?"

She nods, pulling the covers up to her chin. He leans over her to the nightstand and fishes in the drawer.

"It was right beside me all along?" she asks.

"I've never been real good at hidin' stuff," he says ironically. He settles back against the headboard.

"No, lay down," she requests.

"C'mon, it's my gift, I'll do it my way."

She snorts and pushes herself up until she's facing him.

"Listen," he starts, and he's nervous; he always starts out with 'listen' or 'look' when he nervous or trying to be serious, or both. "I love ya."

"I love you, too."

"Lemme finish," he says. "I love you, Juliet, and I can't ever imagine my life without you now, and I know you ain't ever been much for this kinda thing—hell, I ain't either— , but I need ya, I need ya to have my back, forever." He's looking her straight in the eyes, and she realizes she's holding her breath.

"James—"

"Uh-uh," he hushes her. "Juliet Burke, Juliet LaFleur, whatever you wanna go by now. We've been married for three years, I guess, but," he takes a deep breath, "Marry me?" He stretches out his palm to reveal a ring.

"Wait, what?"

"That wasn't exactly the answer I was lookin' for."

"Did you just propose?" she asks, leaning forward.

He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the ceiling. "I'm tryin' to be a damn romantic, Juliet. What'd you think I just said?! I just told you every—"

"Yes."

"—thing I feel for you and you just—"

"I said _yes_, James."

"Yes, _what_?"

Juliet throws her hands up in the air with a laugh. "What did you just _ask_ me?"

James looks genuinely confused for a moment, then smiles. "Yes?"

"Yes," she replies, leaning forward again to throw her arms around him. He holds her, kisses her cheeks and suddenly, she's crying.

"You alright?" he asks, holding her at arm's length.

She reaches out her hand. "Put it on?"

He obliges and slides the ring on her finger.

"Okay, now you can't back out," she says, taking a breath.

"What? Why would I—"

"I'm pregnant."

He stares into her eyes, as if making sure she wasn't about to laugh in his face and tell him it's a joke. She doesn't say anything. "Really?"

"Really." Her eyes flit across his face, looking for any emotion at all. She swallows. "Merry Christmas."

He is silent, then reaches out to rest his hand on her stomach. She looks down at it. "It's mine? The baby?"

She stifles a laugh because he's serious. "Forgive me, but I thought we were in an open relationship," she pauses. "Of course it's yours."

"C'mere."

She scoots closer, and he pulls her to him until she's in his lap. He presses her against his chest.

"Are you…happy?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Never been happier," he says, breathlessly.

"Really?"

"Hush," he says. He presses a kiss into her hair. "I love you." His hand is back on her stomach. "How long?"

"About two months."

"How do you feel?"

"I haven't had any problems. Not even morning sickness."

"I'm—We—if they hadn't caught me and Kate, we wouldn't have got on the sub, we would still be there, wouldn't we?"

"Yes."

"You would've died."

"I would've left eventually."

"When?"

"I don't know," she says, "I didn't know if you would come with me."

"Of course I would've come with you. I got your back. Always."

She puts her hand over his and watches the ring catch the light of the room.

"I'm okay with skipping Christmas," she says, "As long as we can stay here all day."

He looks down at her and grins. "Okay then. Merry Skipped Christmas."


End file.
